


Like an Angel Sighing

by zannawrites



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, Fluff, Guardian Angel!Kurt, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mild Language, Nongraphic violence, angel!Kurt, i swear it's not super sad, i think thats it, only for a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 03:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18402083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zannawrites/pseuds/zannawrites
Summary: Guardian angels were not beautiful boys who cried when Blaine got hurt and made the air feel dead and alive all at once.Well, he figures that’s what they are now.-or-Blaine meets his guardian angel in the middle of the woods on a particularly rough night.





	Like an Angel Sighing

**Author's Note:**

> Wow this was fun to write! I hope it's fun to read, but here's some important info before you move on. The "***" means that there is a time jump, but only a small one (like minutes/hours/days), while "•••" is a larger time jump, as in years. Don't worry though, it's not confusing. Also, there's some stuff from the Sadie Hawkins dance, and we all know what happens there (nasty homophobia). I hope you enjoy!

Blaine isn’t sure how long he’s been crying, but his face itches and his eyes burn. His throat is thick and he keeps choking on sobs. He runs his hands over his round cheeks and takes in deep breaths to calm down like his mama told him to do. It kind of works and the hot stream of tears stop after a few meditative breaths. 

He’s sitting in the bathroom by himself and there’s only a few more minutes until the bell rings to signal the end of the school day. He can wait that long, and then he’ll run out to the car rider line and hop in his mama’s car and she’ll tell him about her day and play the radio. Then when they pull into the long driveway at his house it’ll be like the whole day never even happened. 

Blaine doesn’t really know why it’s happening- why he’s getting teased. But lately it’s become a thing for the boys in his class to pick on him during recess. They make fun of his curly hair and his bow ties and how he talks more grown up than the rest of them. Some of them call him a word that he doesn’t understand; he’ll have to casually ask his mama about it. 

The bell rings clearly and loudly throughout the school, echoing off the walls in the almost empty bathroom. Wiping his face one last time, he grabs his Lisa Frank book bag (they make fun of him for that too) and bolts out the bathroom, down the hall, and through the front doors. 

***

The car ride is quiet. Blaine’s mama had asked how his day was, and he said ok and asked how hers was, and she said ok too. The conversation died there, a Nirvana song filling the silence. Maybe his mama knows something is wrong. 

“Something on your mind, honey bee?”

There it is. 

“Kind of. Can I ask you what a word means?” he says, and then adds quickly, “But you can’t get mad if it’s a bad word, ok?”

She glances at him briefly, her eyes flicking from the road and over his face before focusing back. “Go for it,” she says in a sweet tone with a tight smile on her face. 

“What does ‘fag’ mean? I haven’t heard it or read it in a book before.”

The car stops at a red light, and she turns to fully look at him. Blaine can’t meet her eyes though; it feels like she’s mad at him. She has that same look where her eyes widen but her dark eyebrows are pulled together and her jaw is clenched. She usually speaks through gritted teeth after that.

His mama never yells. 

“Where did you hear that word?” Her voice is strangely soft, but her teeth aren’t clenched. She’s speaking clearly, almost calmly. 

Blaine picks at the nail on his thumb so that he doesn’t have to look at her. “At school.”

She mutters something under her breath, and Blaine thinks he hears “ten year olds shouldn’t be using a word like that” and it makes his stomach turn. 

“So what does it mean?”

Hesitating for a minute, she purses her wine colored lips. “An English cigarette,” she finally answers. 

Blaine scrunches his nose up and pulls his brows together. “But that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why not? It’s my answer, so it makes sense. Or do you not believe your mom?”

“Because I’m not a cigarette, so it’s not a very good insult.” Blaine clamps his mouth shut too late. _Oops!_ He didn’t plan on telling his mama. He doesn’t want her to worry. Besides, he doesn’t think it’s something he can’t handle. 

“Blaine, someone called you that word? Who? Kids in your class?” Her voice is sharp as glass and her eyes are just as piercing. Blaine is thankful when the light changes back to green and she’s distracted by the road again. 

“No?”

“You just said someone did, Blaine. Tell me their names.” 

She sounds mad. Why is she mad at him? Is it his fault that he’s being teased? Maybe it is. “No one called me that, I just heard someone using it in the hall.” It’s a lame recovery and he knows it. There’s a thick silence in the car, and it makes Blaine feel like he has his thick plaid blanket over his head. 

“Fine. We’ll drop it for now.”

She still sounds a little mad, but the mood in the car lifts slightly and Blaine can breathe again. He kicks his feet up and down to the music, and the movement helps loosen up the tightness in his gut. 

The day is almost over. 

***

They end up stopping at the bank, but Blaine doesn’t mind. The bank is quiet and fancy inside, and his mama usually gets him a sucker from one of the ladies behind the tall counter. She tells him that she’ll be back in a little while, and points for Blaine to go sit down on one of the big red couches. 

He’s been sitting there for a while just staring at the marbled floor and trying to make pictures out of them in his head when he sees someone from the corner of his eye sit on the far end of his couch. He turns to look at his new couch buddy and it’s a boy probably his age. He has on a small, fancy looking black coat and it makes Blaine curious. It’s too warm out for a coat like that. 

The boy turns towards him, and Blaine quickly whips his head back around to look at the floor again, embarrassed at having been caught staring. His skin prickles under the other boy’s gaze. 

“It’s pretty in here, isn’t it?” the boy asks. His voice makes Blaine’s cheeks burn. It’s soft and high and it sounds so musical. 

Blaine looks up again, his cheeks still hot, and nods rapidly. 

The boy’s eyes are the color of the sky after it rains. But not the gloomy grey, the soft blue when the sun is starting to shine again. 

“The gold pillars and white floor and ceiling, it almost makes it look heavenly, doesn’t it?” 

He should probably say something now. The boy is giving him a soft smile and his pretty eyes are shining with the question. Or maybe he’s trying to ask something else. 

Blaine mentally untangles his tongue and forces out a reply. “Umm, yeah, I guess so.” His mama told him not to talk to strangers, but it’s ok if it’s someone his own age, right? 

He’s still being stared at by those blue eyes and Blaine starts to fidget until the boy says, “I like your bow tie. You have good taste.”

“Oh,” Blaine starts at that and looks down at his soft pink and white bow tie. “Thanks. Not a lot of boys my age like my bow ties,” he adds in a rather pathetic voice. 

The boy cocks his head to the side like a puppy hearing its name called. “Why’s that?”

Blaine shrugs. “I don’t know. They make fun of me for the way I look and act. They call me names.” He’s not sure why he’s telling him all this. His face is just so kind and he sounds like someone who cares. And he’s little too, so it isn’t as scary as talking to a grown up. 

The other boy sighs and scoots a little bit closer to Blaine, who straightens his back and watches him carefully. 

“You know,” the boy starts, his voice almost a whisper, “when you think about it, it’s sad that some people need to put others down for no reason. They must be awfully bored with their own mundane lives.”

Blaine doesn’t know what the word “mundane” means, but he nods anyways. The boy continues. 

“No one really has all the answers. I don’t. But I can tell you what I do know. It’s best to always be kind. No matter what. You can’t let them turn you into a hateful person. But you also need to know that you’re strong, probably stronger than them. Do you understand?” 

The boy is staring at him with those eyes again, and Blaine feels like he can surely see into his soul. He doesn’t really understand; how is he stronger than a crowd of boys who are much taller than him? He’s certain he couldn’t take them in a fight.

He nods again. 

The boy smiles at him like he knows that Blaine doesn’t get it. It’s a soft and slightly sad smile. “Good,” he whispers, and Blaine can barely hear him. He prettily clears his throat ( _how can someone make that sound pretty?_ ) and his smile grows. “So, why do you like bow ties so much?”

Blaine scoots closer to him, the couch creaking as he re-positions himself. “I think they look nice. And they look grown up.”

“You want to be grown up?”

The question startles Blaine. He doesn’t like being little. He feels so helpless and guilty that his mama has to do so much for him. He’d like to take care of her for once. Besides, if he were a grown up, no one would pick on him. “Don’t you?” he answers the question with one of his own. 

The blue eyed boy shrugs, and his attention starts to wander. Blaine doesn’t like that. He wants him to have his eyes on him again. The boy blinks rapidly a few times, lets out another sigh, and says, “I have to go.”

Blaine visibly deflates, his posture slumping and his face falling. He just met him though. This isn’t fair. But he can’t bring himself to say or do anything to make him stay. 

“Take care, Blaine,” the boy says, and then he follows a woman out the front door. 

Blaine wanted to say goodbye, but he can’t remember getting the boy’s name. Come to think of it, he can’t remember giving his own. 

The sounds of the bank come rushing back to him as if while the boy was there they were both encased in a bubble. The soft rustles of paper and clicking of pens sound deafening for a moment, but then Blaine steadies himself in his surroundings and it’s just another Thursday evening. 

When a hand squeezes his shoulder Blaine actually jumps and places a hand over his quickly beating heart. “Whoa, are you alright, honey bee?”

Blaine looks back at his mama and smiles. “Yeah, sorry. I guess I spaced out for a minute.”

She smiles and takes his hand. “That’s ok. I got you a sucker, if you want it.”

Blaine takes the green colored treat happily and thanks her. He wants to tell his mama about the boy with the pretty eyes, but a little voice in his head is telling him not to. What if she asks what they talked about? Then she’ll get worried about _that word_ again, and it will make Blaine feel sick again. It’s better to just let it go. He can handle it on his own. 

•••

“You’re moving to California? Why?”

Cooper sighs and stuffs another pile of shirts into his giant suitcase. Blaine knows that he’s grown a little since he turned fifteen and started _puberty_ (which was terrifying and awesome at the same time), but he thinks he can fit himself into that suitcase if he tries hard enough. 

“I’m twenty one years old, Squirt, and I live in the same town as mom and pop. I went to the college down the road and then moved into this crap apartment immediately after.” He stops shoving everything he owns (which isn’t much) into his suitcase for a minute to look at Blaine. “I have to go. You know I want to be an actor, Blaine, and I can’t do that here. Going to Cali is the only option.”

Blaine runs a hand through his gelled hair and grimaces at the texture. “I thought you’d at least wait until I got through high school.”

Cooper snorts a pitiful laugh. “You haven’t even started yet. That’s four more years. I can’t be stuck in Ohio for four more years.”

“Oh, so staying here with me means you’re _stuck_ then?” Blaine bristles at the comment. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“But it’s what you said.” Blaine looks down at his feet and clenches his jaw. “You can’t… you can’t just leave me here with them. I can’t deal with this by myself,” he whispers. 

Cooper snaps his head in his direction, and his eyes have gone soft. “You don’t have to tell them anytime soon, Squirt. Whenever you’re ready.”

Blaine huffs and lays back on Cooper’s bed. The comforter and sheets are gone so he lands on bare mattress. “I want to do it soon. I don’t think I can go through high school without telling them. I don’t want to.”

“I get that,” Cooper says in a lighter tone as he resumes packing. “All those hormones.”

He’s trying to joke, to lighten the mood, but it’s not helping. Blaine still feels sick to his stomach. 

Cooper looks over and he must notice how the color has drained from Blaine’s face because he comes to sit beside him on the bed. “Blaine, it meant so much to me when you came out to me first. I know it must have been hard. But mom and dad… they’re going to love you no matter what. You have to know that.”

Blaine doesn’t know that. And neither does Cooper. He doesn’t hear what their dad says when he’s watching the news or when two men hold hands on tv. Thinking about what his dad could say to him makes his hands clammy and his throat dry. It’s no use arguing though. Talking about it (even thinking about it) is enough to make him spiral into panic with his brain constantly providing an unhelpful “but what if…?” 

He can’t say anything else. He wants him to stay so badly; he needs him to stay. He felt safe with Cooper living a few minutes away. If things didn’t work out with his parents, he had planned on just moving in with Cooper. With his big brother leaving, he feels like he’s just floating helplessly in a sea of uncertainty without anyone to pull him up if his head goes under. No matter what he says, Cooper is still going to leave him. Here, in Lima, Ohio. Alone.

He nods. 

***

Coming out to his parents went a little bit better than he thought it would. He wasn’t welcomed with “We love you son, and we fully support you” like he wanted to be. His mom did say “Oh, well that’s ok, honey bee,” even though she wasn’t smiling. His dad had only silently stared him down, occasionally nodding when his mom had said something that she thought would be supportive. 

He got off good, though, in his mind. He didn’t get yelled at for being a disgrace, his mom didn’t cry (at least in front of him), and he didn’t get kicked out. 

He sort of wishes he got kicked out. 

Then he could live in California with Cooper. And even though Cooper hasn’t called in two months, Blaine still thinks that California would be better. Everyone is gay there. And Cooper wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around him, afraid of slipping up by saying something heteronormative or “accidentally” using the f word. 

It’s just been a little tense at home. 

High school isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Albeit, he didn’t come out to the entire student body by announcing “Good morning, everyone! Blaine Devon Anderson is gay!” over the PA system, but he did tell his small circle of friends. It turns out that his other friend, Michael, is also gay. He was just waiting on someone else in their small public school to make the first move. (Blaine tried not to think that it was selfish of him to do so. After all, Blaine doesn’t know what his home life is like.)

“Hey Blaine, are you going to Sadie Hawkins?”

Blaine blinks slowly, bringing himself back to reality after being zoned out for too long in world history. He turns to look at his friend, Lola. She’s smiling giddily at him. 

Blaine smiles back, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back as he answers, “Is that your way of asking me out?”

She snorts and flips her curly blonde hair over her shoulder. “No, silly. I was just wondering if you’re going.”

Sighing, Blaine rubs a hand over his face. “Uh, I don’t know. Are you?”

“Yeah, but with our friend group. I’d rather not take a date.”

Blaine rolls the idea around in his head. It seems fun but…

“Do you think Michael would go with me? Like as my date?”

Lola sits up straighter in her desk and they both turn back to look at Michael. He’s got his head down on his desk, his black hoodie pulled over him. His shoulders and back rise occasionally to suggest that he’s sleeping. 

“What, do you like him or something?”

Blaine groans and turns back around to face the front. “Not like that. Sure, Michael is great, but he’s my friend. I’ve never had those kinds of feelings for him before. I just… I just want to take a boy.” It’s risky. He knows it. But if they go together and stay close to the friend group, they would be fine. No one would bother them then. 

Lola’s face gets very serious all of a sudden. Her blue eyes seem to get darker and she stops smiling. “Blaine. You know I love you and I fully support you, and Michael, and everyone else like you, but this is Ohio. Not everyone is as open minded. Not everyone is kind.”

Blaine sighs and picks up his pencil. “I know, I’ve heard the sermon before. But it’s not like we’ll go alone. We’ll be with you and the rest of the group. He’ll just pick me up, we’ll probably dance a little, and he’ll take me home. That’s it.”

The bell rings then, and Blaine rushes to shove his binder and papers into his over-sized book bag. Lola stands up gracefully, having been prepared for dismissal. “Just be smart, ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah, always.”

***

Persuading his parents to let him go to Sadie Hawkins was enough of a struggle, but asking to be taken by Michael was even more so. Blaine made the argument that since Michael was held back a year in middle school he could drive them, but that didn’t really help his case how he wanted it to. Eventually, after days of begging, his mother conceded and said that as long as they stayed in their group, then they could go together. Blaine’s dad had said nothing. 

And now Blaine is awkwardly standing in the foyer with Michael and his parents, and he just wants to die and then leave. In that order. He can be a corpse on the dance-floor, no one would think any different.

“I swear I’ll have him home before sunrise, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. And I won’t get him drunk or rent a hotel room. Scout’s honor.” He gives them a mock salute. Michael was kicked out of boy scouts his second year. 

Blaine grips Michael’s arm tighter and whispers, “Not helping,” as his dad glares at them. His mom has already taken too many pictures. She said they looked too cute not to. (Which is true. They’re both in button downs and slacks, and Blaine has his hair gelled and Michael actually brushed his for once.) 

Blaine’s dad clears his throat, and Blaine prepares for something sarcastic or rude that he’ll think about all night. 

“Be careful, ok? Be smart.”

Blaine almost faints he’s so relieved. “Yessir.”

***

The dance itself was a lot of fun. It wasn’t anything fancy. Apparently the school has had a problem with spiked punch in the past so they only got bottled water, Blaine didn’t know any of the songs being played, and the decorations were a bit tacky. But it was his first high school dance, so it was special all the same. All of his friends looked nice, and they had a lot of fun dancing, or flailing, around together. Him and Michael even shared a slightly awkward slow dance, which was made less awkward by the other boy whispering lame jokes in his ear.

Ten thirty had come all too quickly, and Blaine had to be home before eleven. They waved goodbye to their friends and Michael and Blaine linked arms before walking out to the parking lot. 

It’s cold outside, so cold that Blaine can see their breath turn into little clouds and float away and his cheeks sting. But Michael keeps quoting strange conversations that they heard out on the dance floor, and Blaine keeps laughing, so he doesn’t mind the chill too much. He barely notices it at all. 

He also barely notices the five boys leaning against Michael’s small truck until they’re a few yards away. 

Blaine’s whole body tenses and he stops abruptly. Since their arms are still linked, Michael is pulled to a halt as well. 

“Michael, do you know those boys?” he asks, his voice a tense whisper. 

Michael pulls away from Blaine and finally seems to really look at their company. “No, they look like seniors,” he says in a voice that sounds too calm. It reminds Blaine of the times his mom would try and act unconcerned about something when he knew she was worried. Like there’s something hidden underneath, trying to be contained. 

Maybe they just wanted somewhere to drink or smoke or get high or whatever it was that high schoolers did, and they randomly chose Michael’s truck. Maybe they had mistaken his truck for someone else’s. Maybe-

“So the fags finally decided to come out, huh? We’ve been here for a while now. It’s rude of you to keep us waiting.”

Oh god. _Oh god, oh god, oh god._

It’s funny, the way that word can just cause Blaine’s body to immediately react. His legs are already shaking, and his throat is closing up. His heart is trying to burst through his chest and fall onto the cold concrete. 

“Nice evening, fellas,” Michael replies smoothly, but Blaine can tell that he’s shaking too. 

The other boys laugh unkindly, and one of them pushes away from the truck. The movement makes Blaine flinch. 

“It was, until you two showed up. Did you think you could just flaunt it around our school? Hanging all over each other, dancing, flirting. That kind of behavior needs to be met with a punishment, don’t you think?” There are more barks of laughter from the comment. Blaine doesn’t think it’s funny at all. 

Michael turns and shoves Blaine in the direction of the school, but then the boys are on them, roughly grabbing their arms. Blaine is pushed to the ground, and the first few kicks begin. And oh god, Blaine had imagined being beaten before, but he never expected it to feel like this. He can’t breathe, and he can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears and the impact of flesh on flesh. He thinks he can hear groans from Michael, but they could be his own. 

There’s a weight on his lower abdomen, and holy _fuck_ it’s making the pain from the kicks a million times worse. He can’t breathe _he can’t breathe_. It takes him a moment to realize that someone is sitting on him, but right as he notices, he’s pulled up by the collar of his shirt and a fist comes in contact with his face. 

His ears are ringing, and his nose feels like it’s completely smashed in. It feels like it’s been hours, but he knows that it started maybe a minute ago. 

Things are starting to get fuzzy though, which means that he can slip away and become numb. It’s obviously the best option at this point. 

Suddenly, there’s a bright white light that washes over him and it’s so calming. Blaine thinks he’s dying. It’s accompanied shortly after by the shriek of sirens. The kicks and punches mercifully stop and the sounds of retreating footsteps replace the solid _thunks_ of fists and feet. The sirens grow louder (his ears are _bleeding_ ) and blue and red flashing lights flood his vision, replacing the white glow. 

***

Blaine doesn’t remember much from the hospital. The lights were too bright, and every door opening and closing and ring of a phone was too loud. He remembers his mom talking in harsh whispers to the nurse and his father looming in the corner. He was allowed to stay the night, but his parents took him home this morning. It’s night time now, and the hours passing by have felt like minutes. Laying on the couch all day isn’t the most exciting thing, so he napped a lot. 

He’s woken for the tenth time that day, but this time it isn’t from the discomfort in his ribs. His parents have raised their voices to a volume that allows the shouts to make their way through his foggy brain. His entire body goes cold when he gets his senses about him. 

Blaine has never heard his mom yell. 

“Pamela, it was just a few dumb kids. They were suspended anyways.” It’s his dad speaking. He sounds tired. 

They’re in the kitchen, and there’s the unpleasant sound of a chair scraping across tile. 

“That’s the problem! They were _suspended_. Those boys almost killed our son, and you want to send him back to that school? No. I won’t let you do it.” Her voice is loud and strong, but it shakes towards the end. 

His dad sighs. Blaine imagines him running his hand over his face. “Then what do you want to do? Home school him? Neither of us have time for that.”

“No.” There’s a rustling of paper and his mom clears her throat. “We got this in the mail today. It sounds perfect, John. He could start next month, they say that transfers are usually smooth and fairly simple.”

His dad grunts. “A private school?”

“With a zero tolerance policy. They enforce it, John. Please, give me a good reason why we shouldn’t do it, and don’t say it’s about the money.” Is his mom begging? He’s never heard his mom beg before, either. 

There’s a long silence and Blaine holds very still. He doesn’t even breathe for fear that the sounds will cover up part of the conversation. He doesn’t let himself get hopeful. 

“Fine. We’ll talk to him in the morning.”

***

Blaine hasn’t stopped thinking about the private school. Just imagining going back to school and seeing those boys in the halls makes his heart stutter and his body shiver with anxiety. But leaving his friends is a sad thought. He doesn’t know if they’d understand, but he’d miss them a lot. 

Another thing that’s bothering him is the tuition. He knows that his family has money, it just sounds like another inconvenience he’s putting on them. What if something happened, and they lost money? What if they wasted it all on his education? What if Blaine becomes one of those punks who skips classes and is a nuisance to teachers, only to find out at the end of the year that he can’t graduate and he wasted all that money? 

Before his mind can conjure up another unlikely situation, he abruptly sits up on the couch, attempting to distract himself. The pain that shoots through his body isn’t the distraction that he was going for, but he welcomes it just the same. 

It’s unusually bright in the living room for it being around midnight. The large windows allow milky blue moonlight to spill over the carpet and up onto the furniture and walls. The sky is brighter than normal too; it’s a deep sea blue rather than black. It must be a full moon. 

Blaine shifts to look around the room, and the rustling of his blanket sounds too loud. He can’t place the feeling really, but he knows something is… _off_. Something is wrong. His skin prickles and his lungs are tight. The air around him feels dead as it passes in and out of his mouth. 

Cautiously, he pushes the blanket off of his body and places his feet on the cold hardwood floor. He shakily raises himself and slowly makes his way to one of the windows. The air is colder the closer he gets to the glass and his breath fogs against it, obstructing his view of the woods and night sky. 

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Blaine has opened the front door and is standing on his porch in a thin white T-shirt and his flannel pajama bottoms. 

It’s so peaceful outside. Even though the air is as dead as it is inside, the stars are brilliant and the dark silhouettes of the trees are blocking his home from the rest of the world. He feels safe even though his body still aches and his feet are already going numb. He’s in another world. 

That’s when he notices it. 

There’s a bright light in the woods, like the moon itself has fallen and has made its home among the dead trees and dry leaves coating the forest floor. A tug in his gut pulls him forward, and he practically stumbles off of his steps before he touches soft grass. It’s like a fishhook is caught in his shirt, and he’d bring reeled in, getting closer to the woods. He can’t help but think that he must be a moth drawn to stadium lights. 

The deeper he gets into the woods, the less cold he feels. He stops shivering and a pleasant hum has filled his body. He doesn’t even notice all of the twigs and acorns he steps on as he pushes through underbrush and climbs over fallen dead branches. All the while the light keeps getting brighter. It’s not blinding like he would’ve thought, it’s more like a blanket of soft white light has covered everything, and the blanket gets fuller the more he walks. 

Suddenly, his stomach starts to twist and his knees start to shake. Why is he nervous? Maybe the weight of what he’s doing has finally came crashing down on him. Or maybe his body knows something that his mind doesn’t yet. 

There’s a soft sound that he can only barely hear over his feet crunching leaves. It sounds like someone is crying, soft sniffles and chokes of breath. 

Blaine shoves past the last branch and then he’s in a small circular clearing. The sight before him roots him to the ground. 

There’s this beautiful boy sitting on the ground, and he must be the source of all the light. He’s bathed in it. He’s slender and pale and his features are kind of fairy like. His body is covered by some kind of white sheet thing that wraps across his chest and around his lower body. 

Oh, and he has giant, white feathery wings drooping behind him. 

Blaine lets out a huff of a breath and the boy is up from the ground so quickly that the leaves on the surrounding trees are disturbed. 

Blaine takes a couple steps back, his feet tangling together, and he falls to the ground. This boy in front of him, he isn’t standing. He’s _floating_. About ten feet above the ground. His gorgeous wings aren’t drooping anymore, they’re raised in a way that’s menacing, and his chest is puffed out. Then Blaine looks up at his face, and the facade is shattered. 

The boy’s mouth is opened slightly in surprise, and his brows are furrowed down. He has the most breathtaking sky blue eyes that make Blaine’s heart race a bit faster. Big tears are spilling down his cheeks in an almost continuous stream. Blaine feels guilty that he thinks it’s the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“You shouldn’t be out here. I- I shouldn’t have let you see me,” the angel says in a breathless, but _oh_ so beautiful, voice. At least Blaine thinks he’s an angel. That would explain the wings. And the ethereal beauty. 

Blaine holds his hands up over his head and tries to look less awestruck than he is. “It’s ok, I’m not going to hurt you.”

The angel laughs briefly, and it’s musical and Blaine wants to hear it again. “Oh, I know you aren’t, dear.” His voice still sounds sad. 

Blaine can’t bring himself to stand and he doesn’t know why. If he tried, his knees would probably give out. Besides, it seems rude to stand in the presence of something so beautiful. 

The angel glides over to him in one swift motion and Blaine jumps. He’s shaking and it’s not because of the biting February air. 

“Can I see?” he asks, his hand hovering over Blaine’s shirt. Blaine doesn’t really know what he’s asking, but he nods anyways. Why would he say no?

Oh so gently, the angel pulls Blaine’s shirt up a bit, and he grimaces as the cold air meets his bare skin. The angel gasps, the slightest intake of air, his fingers barely skimming over the bandage and the bruises that decorate his torso. A fresh stream of tears start down the angel’s face. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says softly, and Blaine stares for a little longer than necessary before he realizes that he should say something to clear things up or to make the angel stop crying. He was distracted by the dusting of freckles over the angel’s cheeks and nose. 

“Why are you sorry?” he asks, his voice only shaking a little bit. “You didn’t beat me up.”

“No, but I could’ve done… something. I tried willing them to stop; it works with most people. But not them.” The angel looks Blaine in the eyes again and he’s blown away by all the colors he sees there. Blue, grey, green. 

He remembers something from last night. A bright white light before the sirens filled the cool night air and the blows stopped. Something tells Blaine that this distraught boy played some role in Blaine getting out of that parking lot alive. 

“How can hate be so strong? How can people hold so much of it in their hearts?”

Blaine doesn’t answer (he doesn’t have an answer anyways), but he re-positions himself so that he’s sitting cross legged, leaning forward despite the way it makes his ribs feel like they’re shattering. “I know you. I’ve met you before.” He remembers the fancy building. The clicking of heels on tiles. The shuffling of papers. The kind boy who sat next to him on the uncomfortable couch. “You were at the bank, weren’t you?”

The angel pulls away from Blaine, standing, or, hovering, in an upright position. He doesn’t look as regal as he did before. “It was stupid of me. Wasting all of my energy on that form. I got into a lot of trouble for doing it. But I knew that I couldn’t approach you like this. It just… it wouldn’t work.”

Blaine cocks his head to the side, wracking his brain for any possible information that he knows about angels. He doesn’t come up with much. “Aren’t you not supposed to age? You are an angel, right? When I saw you then you were so little. Shouldn’t you stay the same age?”

The angel smiles, and Blaine feels so damn proud for being at least one percent competent. He’s surprised he’s able to function at all in this situation. “That’s right,” the angel says, “but I’m not just any angel. I’m your guardian angel, so I age with you.”

“Guardian angel?” Blaine parrots. Those were only stories that his mom told him when he was little. Whenever he got lucky or only scraped his knee when he fell instead of getting a concussion it was because “someone was watching over him”. Guardian angels were not beautiful boys who cried when he got hurt and made the air feel dead and alive all at once. 

Well, he figures that’s what they are now. 

The angel nods, his smile soft and his eyes glistening with tears. Blaine doesn’t want him to cry again. 

“Well, uh, what’s your name?” he stammers. “What can I call you?”

The angel hesitates for a moment, and it seems like the entire world is still. “Kurt,” he finally says. 

“Kurt,” Blaine tries, saying the name like he’s known it forever. “I like that.” He watches with delight and wonder as rose colored blush covers Kurt’s cheeks and ears. 

Blaine clears his throat and continues. “You can’t blame yourself, Kurt. People suck sometimes.”

Kurt lands on the ground, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “But it’s my job to protect you,” he says fiercely. The wind picks up slightly and Blaine’s ears ring. “I brought the idea of Dalton to your parents, but it doesn’t feel like enough. I can’t ever do enough.”

“Hey.” Blaine stands up shakily, willing his knees not to buckle. “I’m alive, aren’t I? You did a hell of a good job, in my opinion. Oh, sorry, I mean _heck_.” Blaine fumbles and blushes over his mistake. 

Kurt laughs and it makes Blaine smile. “You can curse, sweetie. I’m not offended.” Then the angel takes a few steps forward until he’s right in front of Blaine, who wills himself to not step back or do something stupid like reach out and touch. He doesn’t have to though, because Kurt puts his soft hand on his cheek and Blaine unconsciously leans into the touch. (He also may have made a sound like a whimper or a sigh, but no one needs to know that detail.) 

“I just want to make sure you’re ok all of the time. You’re so… important. And good. And beautiful and talented and strong.” Kurt is looking at him so intently and Blaine actually thinks he may pass out. Kurt said everything like he was sure of it, like it has to be true. No one has ever called Blaine beautiful before. It makes his chest ache, and in a sort of pleasant way. 

Kurt pulls away too quickly, turning his back to Blaine. Blaine stumbles from the sudden absence of Kurt’s hand and his presence, and he’s glad that Kurt can’t see him. He’s sure his face is aflame with blush. 

“I’ve gotten rather… attached. More so than I’m supposed to,” Kurt says softly. His wings shift until they’re almost hugging him. Blaine wants to brush his fingers over the feathers. He waits with stilled breath for Kurt to continue. 

“I haven’t been as present as I need to be as a guardian angel because of it. They’ve been keeping me busy; I think they want to reassign me. Which is preposterous. I can do my job just fine, thank you very much.” Kurt sounds like he’s talking more to himself than he is Blaine. His voice is far away, directed at someone else. 

“What do you mean? Why would you being attached to me be a problem? I- I don’t understand,” Blaine says. He dares himself to take a step closer to Kurt. 

The angel turns around halfway, one of his wings blocking most of his face. He makes eye contact with Blaine, though. “You’re a very smart boy, Blaine. I think you know what I mean.”

Blaine does think he knows what he means. It makes his heart jitter and his ears burn. “So you… do you… _like_ me?” Saying it out loud sounds unbelievably dumb. “I didn’t think angels could be gay.” That was even more dumb. Why would an angel like Kurt have eyes for a boy like Blaine?

Kurt laughs loudly, and the stars must twinkle brighter for just a moment and Blaine feels light as a feather. 

“I’d say ‘like’ is a very weak word for it, but yes. You’re special, Blaine. So much so that it’s hard for me not to want to be around you like this all the time. You make me feel so much more than I thought was possible.”

Blaine’s legs tremble and his stomach swoops. He doesn’t know what to say to something like that. No one has ever thought of him like that before. It’s exhilarating and terrifying. 

“You weren’t supposed to come here tonight. You weren’t supposed to find me. But I’m so glad you did,” Kurt says, turning fully around and hovering again, but this time it’s only a few inches. 

Blaine finds his voice, shaking slightly, and stumbles out a weak, “I’m glad I did too.” He just stares for a bit, taking in the sight of Kurt. There’s a beat of loaded silence before he says, “So what happens now?”

“Now,” Kurt says, his voice sweet and sad, “I get into a lot of trouble with the Higher Beings. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

Blaine feels bolder now, so he moves closer to Kurt. “Will I ever see you again?” 

Kurt sighs and tips his head up towards the sky. Blaine is momentarily distracted by the curve of his throat. 

“I think so. If things go how I want them too, you will. But you won’t remember me as I am now, and I won’t really remember you. I’ll be different, but the same.”

Blaine doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know how anything like that could work, but he does latch onto one piece of information. He’ll get to see Kurt again. Kurt will get to stay here on earth with him. Blaine won’t be alone anymore. 

Struck with a sudden feeling of panic, Blaine reaches his hand out, and then lets it fall before saying, “I don’t want you to say goodbye to me yet.”

Kurt grabs onto Blaine’s hand, his feet planted back on the ground. “I’m never saying goodbye to you. Instead, let’s say, ‘I’ll see you later’.” Kurt’s smile is so fond, and Blaine is falling apart and being put back together. 

Blaine’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth, so he just nods. Kurt laughs softly. “Use your words, Blaine. I know you have something to say.”

Blaine huffs, running a hand through his curls. “How am I supposed to do this? I feel so… lost. My parents act like I’m a stranger, I haven’t talked to Cooper in months, and I got my own guardian angel in trouble. Who do I have now?”

“Blaine,” Kurt starts softly, and he pushes their clasped hands to the smaller boy’s heart. “You are loved more than you realize. Your parents want what’s best for you, even when they don’t know the right thing to say or do. Talk to them about how you’re feeling. And your friends, they really care about you. I know you’re afraid of transferring, but they want you to be safe. They’d understand.” Kurt sighs and runs his free hand through Blaine’s curls, and Blaine wants to melt. “I know it’s easier for me to say than for you to believe, but I want you to trust me when I say this. You will be ok. Things are going to start looking up for you, Blaine Anderson.”

Breathing in deep and letting it out in a quick huff, Blaine nods. He actually doesn’t have anything to say this time. He doesn’t know how he’d follow that. He doesn’t know what’s left to say. 

“Take care, dear,” Kurt says, pulling his hands away. “I’ll see you later.” 

Kurt leans down from where he’s floating and presses his lips to Blaine’s cheek. Blaine closes his eyes and lets himself memorize the feeling. He feels calm, almost at peace, but also like he could cry any second. The gesture is so soft and gentle it makes him feel like he’s floating, too. 

When Kurt pulls away, Blaine slowly opens his eyes. He misses the warmth, the proximity. And then with one last soft smile, Kurt is gone, soaring through the sky until he’s nothing more than a speck of light.

A star in the night sky. 

•••

“Can I ask you a question? I’m new here.”

“My name’s Blaine.”

“Kurt.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are appreciated


End file.
